Second First Date
by TheNoodleIncident
Summary: [Post Jurassic World] After saving each others' lives and watching dinosaurs fight to the death, Claire decides to give Owen a second chance at a first date. Two-shot, Claire/Owen. Rated for sexual themes and Owen's potty mouth. Might just be sweet enough to give you cavities.
1. Shot the First: Second First Date

_A/N: So I just saw Jurassic World with my hubby today and I could not get enough of Claire and Owen. They are just such a wonderful couple, so I decided to give them some fluff to make up for how messed up their day at the park had been. Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Jurassic World, I'm merely borrowing its characters for some fun. Warning: may give you cavities. One-shot, Claire/Owen, rated for mild swearing and sexual innuendo. Enjoy! ~BK93_

 _A/N 2: Much to my horror, the document editor deleted the breaks I inserted to make the story seem less choppy, so I had to update the chapter x.x Sorry if you got to it before I noticed!  
_

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 _Second First Date_

You never get a second chance at a first impression. At least, that was what Owen Grady had always been told. Not that he had ever needed a second chance. Owen was a master in the art of seduction; there wasn't a single woman he couldn't ultimately charm with his devilish good looks and no-nonsense attitude. He'd romanced half the female employees of Jurassic World. There wasn't a single woman out of his reach.

Until, that is, he met Claire Dearing.

Claire had been a tough nut to crack: straight-laced, uptight, and almost as no-nonsense as he was. _Almost._ She was just as bullheaded as he, and just as determined. In many respects, they were very alike. However, he and Claire differed on a few key issues, and that had become very apparent on their disastrous first attempt at a date, though he'd rather not remember the "board shorts and itineraries" fiasco.

Honestly, her saving his life gave him cause to forgive all grievances. There was no shortage of choices she could have made while that tyrannodactyl was trying to chew off the better part of his face. She could have screamed, helpless, and watched him die; waiting for it to turn on her and her nephews. She could have taken the boys and run, protecting her own kin over a park employee, and he would have respected her decision. But she didn't. She picked up his gun and shot the beast, killing it and saving his life. Owen had been dumbfounded. He had been awestruck. He was still drawing breath, and it was thanks to Miss Starched Suit. He rolled over and stood, and never before had a woman been so beautiful in his eyes. She was covered in dirt, sweat, and God knows what, her fiery auburn hair frizzed into curls by humidity and hard running, her pristine white skirt torn up to her thigh and her crisp white blouse open and dirty. She was breathing hard and clutching his gun like a nun might clutch a rosary.

He kissed her there, hard, right in front of her nephews. It wasn't any old kiss, not like the mind-warping tongue games he'd played with previous conquests. He kissed her like she was oxygen and he was drowning.

He had no idea where the T-rex had come from; only that Claire had thrown the flare that led it to attack InGen's frankenosaur, which must have meant somehow she got it out of its paddock and led it to the plaza. He could get the specifics later. What mattered was Claire had _run_ in at least six inch heels to lead the T-rex to the fight, making it chase her like prey. She had saved their lives and very easily could have died doing so. He'd wanted to scream at her, to shake her and ask her what in the name of holy hell she thought she was doing, but with the combined might of the 'rex and Blue, with a little help of a Mosasaurus, the giant hybrid dinosaur was dead. That left them in Costa Rica with the rest of the survivors of Jurassic World's final day. Her nephews had been reunited with their parents, and he and Claire had stepped away for a moment of privacy.

The air was crisp and cool outside the hangar being used to shelter the surviving park guests. The sun was setting, and below him, Owen could hear the waves of the crystal blue ocean crashing against the bluff. He wrapped an arm securely around Claire, surprised when she sighed softly and snuggled in to his chest.

"So, we stick together, for survival," she said softly. She sounded tired, and he couldn't blame her.

"That's what I think we should do, anyway. Right?" Owen looked down at her, his eyes catching hers. Claire looked out at the ocean and let out a long sigh. A silence settled over them.

"What if we gave that first date another try?" She asked at last, a hand coming to rest on his chest. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"What, you mean a second date?" He asked, playfully. Claire smiled and shook her head, ducking out from under his arm and turning to face him.

"No, I mean a _second first date,_ " she insisted. Owen scoffed lightly.

"Where I'm from, we call that a _second date._ " Claire shook her head again. "No?" Owen was puzzled.

"No. Our first date hardly counted as a date. We bickered the whole time. Let's try again."

"You know you don't get a second chance at a first impression, right, Claire?" Claire scoffed.

"So then we make new impressions." He smiled and kissed her again, softer than before, unhurried, and uninterrupted by flying screaming dinosaurs and running screaming tourists.

 _-Break to feed the velociraptors-_

It had taken almost a month for Owen to get that second chance at a first date Claire had promised him. Claire, as the park's operations manager, had been roped in to most of the lawsuits and hearings regarding the dinosaur attacks and the deaths of park-goers and staff members. She wasn't named as a defendant in any of the cases, or in the big class action suit that had been filed, but she was often called to testify that the park's operators, including its owner, Mr. Masrani, had no idea that the dinosaur the lab monkeys had cooked up would be so incredibly intelligent and dangerous. All of the depositions and hearings and testimonies had taken their toll on Claire, and somewhere after her third court appearance that week, she called Owen for their date. She told him she'd made them reservations at a restaurant her sister had once told her would be good; nothing too fancy, but not a burger joint. This _was_ Claire Dearing, after all.

Ordinarily, Owen would have swaggered in to the restaurant in his trademark leather vest, probably with some motorcycle engine grease still smeared on his shirt because it "gave him character." But this was _Claire._ Owen showered at least an hour before their date, scrubbing grease off every last inch of himself. He'd combed his hair and forgone the vest in favor of a button-down shirt under a dark blue blazer he rarely wore, paired with jeans and his boots. _That_ had been fun; finding a new place and new stuff, because everything he owned was on an island covered with free-roaming dinosaurs. Even having something nice to wear for tonight took some doing, but Claire was more than worth it. He looked himself over in the mirror in the restaurant's foyer for the third time, pausing to pick just a speck of lint off his shoulder. He looked briefly at his watch before sticking his hands in his pockets and tapping his foot. Claire was late. So unlike her. Even when she and Owen were just shooting text messages back and forth, she was always prompt. Owen glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time before the door opened and Claire stepped in.

She looked _magnificent_. In place of one of her pristine suits was a simple sundress with a complimentary colored cardigan, and instead of heels, she wore ballet flats. Her usually flat-ironed hair waved around her face, and even her makeup looked less severe. _And not an itinerary in sight_ , he mused, smiling as he walked over to her. He felt as surge of pride as her eyes traced him from head to toe, puffing out his chest slightly.

"Wow, Claire…you look fantastic." She beamed and her eyes sparkled, and Owen had to actively stop his knees from buckling. She was _drop-dead gorgeous_ when she smiled.

"You don't look so bad yourself," she said, her tone light and playful and...flirtatious? _Oh, that's definitely a good sign. Already off to a better start than last time._ "Better than board shorts." Owen cringed, but had to laugh.

"Yeah, I figured you deserved a little more effort out of me, seeing as I'm trying to make a new impression on you. Is it working?" Claire giggled, she actually _giggled_ , and Owen couldn't help but grin. _Giggling is a VERY good sign. Very good._

"Definitely." Owen held out his arm for her and Claire reddened slightly, not expecting that kind of gentlemanly gesture from him. When they got to their table, he pulled out her chair for her, earning him another of her brilliant smiles. They sat across from each other, and Claire quietly flipped through the menu before the waiter arrived. To his surprise, she ordered a margarita, and to _her_ surprise, he ordered water, instead of a tequila sunrise like last time.

"I thought your diet wouldn't let you have tequila," he prodded as she quietly sipped her drink. She rolled her eyes, grinning lightheartedly.

"I _do_ get cheat days, y'know…hey!" Owen snagged her margarita playfully and took a sip, grinning all the while. Claire stole it back at first chance and placed it where she thought it would be out of his reach.

" _What?_ " Owen intoned, "I'm just trying to keep you from cheating on your diet!" Claire playfully slapped him on the arm. "OW!" Owen rubbed his arm, grinning like a madman. This was actually going splendidly well. "What was that for? I'm just trying to watch your figure for you! Your…very lovely, very perfect figure." He winked at Claire playfully with a devilish smirk, raking his eyes up and down as much of her as he could see over the table. Claire blushed absolutely scarlet and smacked his arm again, harder. "OW!" It was all worth it. Claire didn't just blush at her cheeks, but all the way up to her hairline and all the way down to the neckline of her dress. One could faintly make out a scattering of freckles across her collarbone against the flushed pink of her skin. It was very becoming, and Owen quietly pondered asking Claire how far down that blush of hers went. His heart skipped a beat, and he decided against it…for now.

 _-Break to feed the velociraptors-_

 _Much_ to his surprise, Claire opted for something more substantial than the puny salad she had ordered last time, even if it was still grilled salmon and broccoli. He still ordered the biggest honkin' steak on the menu in a pure show of masculinity, even though he knew he'd probably end up taking at least half of it home. Whatever, he'd insisted on buying, anyway, to make up for the fact that he had even _suggested_ they go Dutch last time. Claire took another sip of her margarita, looking at him over the rim of her glass.

"So…" she began, almost hesitantly. "What do you like to do, Owen?" Owen froze and looked down at his hands, almost…glum.  
"Well…the 'raptors were kind of my whole life for several years…" He trailed off, finding some very interesting dirt under his thumbnail. Claire's face sank.

"O-oh. I'm sorry." She couldn't help but think about Charlie, Delta, Echo, and Blue, Owen's beloved pack of velociraptors. She set her glass down.

"'S alright. I also build motorcycles in my spare time," Owen offered, trying to make her feel better. "I watch sports like any normal guy…love me some beer, but that's neither here nor there." Claire snorted and Owen knew he was getting their date back on the right track. "What about you, little miss organized? Any hobbies other than pressing your suits?" He teased, and Claire's grin told him she took it the joke it was.

"Actually, yes. I love gardening." Owen couldn't imagine Claire getting herself dirty in a situation that didn't call for it, let alone _voluntarily_ digging around in the dirt. "My mother used to grow roses for shows. I took after her in that respect. And I love organizing things, hence why I took the job as the park operations manager. I worked as a children's party planner to put myself through college." Owen did laugh at that, as much as he tried to hold it in. "What's so funny?" Claire demanded, indignant.

"Nothing, nothing, Claire, I promise! I just can't imagine you planning children's parties. Maybe like weddings and formal events, but _you_ , conversing with clowns and blowing up balloon animals?" Claire barely stifled her laugh. Owen was so, _so_ glad she was so much more easygoing.

"Conversing with clowns, yes. Blowing up animal balloons, no. I usually left that to the clowns. The only thing I seemed to blow up were snakes." It was Claire's turn to wink, and Owen felt his face grow hot. _Is she…is she hinting at something? She has to be._ The arrival of their dinner prevented him from making an innuendo in the form of a snappy comeback. _I'll give you a snake to blow baby, right fucking here._ Owen pushed that comment back into the back of his brain, but could do little more than watch Claire delicately cut up her broccoli and pop a piece into her mouth. He just sat, mind boggled, and watched the saucy little minx across the table thoughtfully chew her food. She swallowed and noticed he hadn't yet touched his food. The look on his face was more than enough to tell her what she had been trying to say was received, and that she had temporarily short-circuited Owen Grady's brain. Claire mentally high-fived herself for being daring. "Well? Are you just gonna sit here and watch me eat? Your steak's getting cold." Emboldened by how well her innuendo was received, Claire reached over and stabbed her fork into one of Owen's oven-roasted rosemary potatoes. She popped it into her mouth with a devious little grin. "It's really good, hate for you to miss out."

Regaining his composure, Owen picked up his silverware and dug in. They ate in comfortable silence, peppered with occasional small talk that came fairly easily after their first stumble. Owen decided to try her knowledge on 1970's rock trivia, and was surprised when Claire came back with almost every band or song name he threw out there. Even some of the obscure ones he barely knew, she seemed to know. At one point during their dinner, Owen _swore_ he felt Claire's foot brush against his leg, a little longer than an incidental kick. When he felt it again, he knew it to be a deliberate caress, and he slid one booted foot to sit between hers, grateful for the long tablecloth that would keep the rest of the restaurant from seeing that two full-grown adults were playing freakin' footsie like teenagers. Claire noticed almost immediately, especially when he slid his chair closer to the table in order to slide his leg further between hers in a clear show of interest. He swore he saw Claire blush faintly. Whatever action she might have taken was again interrupted by the waiter, just as his comeback earlier had been, and Owen began to resent the little cock-blocker.

 _-Break to feed the velociraptors-_

Surprisingly, Claire took both men up on their insistence on dessert, and she and Owen split a piece of sinfully decadent chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream. When Owen was midway through a bite, Claire grinned impishly and stuck her finger in the whipped cream on the side of the plate and promptly smeared it on the tip of his nose, sticking her finger in her mouth to lick the rest off. Owen blinked, befuddled and _very_ turned on. This playful side of Claire was something he never would have imagined as existing.

"No point in wasting perfectly good whipped cream," Claire joked as Owen wiped off what she had dabbed on his nose. He grinned devilishly at her, and scooted his chair around the table to where he could easily reach her. He took a large fingerful of whipped cream and smeared it on her lips.

"Agreed," he practically purred, his voice husky. He kissed Claire, artfully biting and suckling, removing all traces of the whipped cream. When he pulled away, Claire's face was _very_ red, and she was _very_ flustered. _Don't play games with me, gorgeous. I play dirrrrty._

 _-Break to feed the velociraptors-_

Having both taken a cab to the restaurant, Claire and Owen opted to share one heading back to their respective apartments. Claire's apartment was closer and in a much nicer building than Owen's, but he imagined her severance pay from Masrani Global was much more generous than his from InGen, and she had probably already found another job. Owen tipped the cabbie to convince him to stick around as he walked Claire to her door. Claire had insisted on at least paying the cab fare as far as her apartment. They walked through her building together, his blazer draped around her shoulders, along with his arm. They stopped when they reached Claire's apartment and stood facing each other.

"Thank you for dinner, Owen." Claire smiled softly, pushing her hair behind one delicate ear.

"Thank you for the second first date, Claire." Owen leaned down and kissed her passionately, pulling her flush against him. The kiss felt like it stretched on for _hours_ , and when they broke apart, they were both panting. Claire's face was flushed.

"Won't you…come inside?" Claire offered. "For…for coffee?" Owen thanked whichever gods had decided to show him favor and followed Claire into her apartment. He sincerely hoped that cabbie didn't wait _too_ long for him.

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 _A/N: That got suuuuuper steamy, more so than I had originally intended! Well, drop me a review and let me know what you think! Who knows, I might just make this a two-shot. ;P_


	2. Author's Note

_A/N: To everybody who took the time to review/favorite/subscribe to "Second First Date," thank you sooo much! I really wish I could thank each and every one of you individually but there's so many, so this is a group thank-you! This has been my most successful fanfic in my entire history of fanfiction writing, and I wanted to go ahead and post this note to tell everyone that I am going to be making this a two-shot! I've been busy and I haven't had the time I wanted to work on it and I just couldn't leave all you lovely people hanging anymore! The new chapter should hopefully be up by the end of the week, if not sooner, so keep your eyes peeled!_

 _I'll delete this note once the new chapter goes up so there's no awkward breaks. Also, for the dear person that asked why there were breaks to feed the velociraptors, I was just trying to be silly. See you soon everyone!  
_

 _-BK93_


	3. Shot the Second: Slow Burn

_A/N: Okay, so I'll admit originally I was going to go a completely different direction with this and maintain the T rating, but once I started writing, this is what the hamsters that run my dubious little brain told my fingers to write, and honestly it made me squee. I just *had* to go there. WARNING: if you came in expecting fluff and snuggles, you're in for a surprise. I changed the rating for a reason. Rated for sexual content and Owen's near-constant swearing in his inner monologue. DISCLAIMER: I own about as much of Jurassic World as I own of Niagara Falls, which is a fat lotta nothin'. I just get the satisfaction of seeing Owen and Claire happy together._

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 _Second First Date, Shot the Second: Slow Burn_

Owen had to pinch himself to be certain he wasn't dreaming. He was _here_ , in Claire's apartment, with _her_. He closed the door behind them and paused long enough to lock it as Claire dropped his blazer over the back of chair nestled under the little, antique-looking kitchen table and kicked off her shoes. She shrugged out of her cardigan. Underneath, her sundress was strapless, revealing more freckles that dappled her shoulders. She turned towards him, running her fingers through her thick auburn hair. He could tell it would be up to him to make the first move. He stepped toward her, intent on resuming what they had started on the porch, but Claire flushed and spun away, putting the kitchen counter between them before she stopped again.

"So…coffee," he offered, trying to make the situation a little less awkward for the both of them. He heard Claire's sigh of relief, and it stung just a little. What was she so afraid of? Where had the bold, sultry woman from dinner gone?

"Coffee," she agreed, reaching up into a cabinet for something. Owen allowed himself a momentary glance towards her chest, breath hitching as the swell of her breast was pulled upward by the motion, leaving less of it covered by her dress. She pulled down a canister of medium roast coffee and paused again, caught under his gaze, holding the coffee canister to her chest like a shield. She blinked and turned from him, pulling the coffeemaker forward from its spot tucked away on the counter. Owen felt useless and weird just standing there, so he headed into her living room and plopped down on her ivory couch.

"So…do you have Netflix?" He asked casually, bending forward to unlace his boots. He could still see Claire over the island created by a large window cut between the kitchen and living room. He heard the tap running as Claire filled the coffeemaker's water basin.

"I do, actually. I should still be signed in on my laptop. It runs through to the TV. Zach set it up for me the last time he and Gray were here to visit." Claire started the coffeemaker, a little more at ease for his efforts. She joined Owen on the couch as he was kicking off his boots. "I'm actually kind of hopeless when it comes to wiring, so thank God it's only one cord." Owen laughed as she opened up her laptop. He poked fun at her for the romantic comedies in her queue and was actually surprised by a few of the foreign films she'd watched. After some more playful arguing, they settled on a comedy. Claire had visibly eased, and Owen was glad. He'd been in no hurry all night, and he wasn't even sure he'd make it this far. Claire snuggled up next to him on the couch and he draped an arm around her. He was _not_ going to try to rush this and spoil it. Claire jumped up when the coffeemaker gurgled, signaling the end of the brewing. Owen paused their movie.

"Cream and sugar?" Claire asked from the kitchen.

"Just sugar, thanks." Claire returned with the coffee after a few moments, setting Owen's mug on the coffee table in front of the couch. Owen picked up the mug and blew on the contents to cool it. He smirked and took a sip.

"What?" Claire asked, taking a small sip of her coffee. She gently placed her mug on the table.

"Nothing, I…I think this is the first time going back to someone's place for coffee _actually meant_ having coffee." Owen took another sip and set the coffee back on the table. He leaned over to restart their movie, his shirt hiking up his side as he did so. Claire grinned to herself and reached over and tickled his exposed hip. Owen yelped in surprise, almost falling off the couch. Claire doubled over, laughing. "Trying to start something, Claire?" Owen turned towards her and pinned her to the couch, tickling her sides mercilessly. Claire squealed and tried to squirm away.

"Owen, what…Owen, no, stop it!" She could hardly breathe through her laughter.

"Nuh-uh. Say you're sorry for tickling me." Owen held her pinned underneath him. When it seemed like she would squirm away and get free, Owen straddled her, trapping her underneath his full weight. "Say it!" He was grinning like a madman.

"OH myee Gooood, I'm sorryeee!" Claire squealed out, squirming, her hair forming a red halo around her head, glowing brightly against the couch cushions. Her face was as red as her hair, and her breathless flush extended down her neck to her chest, just as he had suspected. Her squirming had pulled the dress dangerously low, and he found freckles dotting the tops of her breasts as well. Owen's grin widened, his eyes positively wild and predatory. He couldn't give this up now.

"Now, say 'Owen Grady is the best dinosaur trainer there ever was!'" He laughed. Claire was still squirming and gasping between squeals.

"N-neeevaar! Oh my God, Owen! Knock it off!" Claire pushed against his chest, and Owen finally ceased. He collapsed on top of Claire, as breathless as she was, laughing all the while. Claire was breathing heavily, but grinning. "What was that all about?" She huffed out. Owen pushed himself up, supporting himself on his elbows. Hmm, he'd shaved his trademark scruff. She hadn't really noticed at dinner, though she supposed she should have noticed the distinctive lack of scratching against her chin as he leaned down and kissed her deeply. The sudden change in the mood caught Claire off guard, but she was hardly against it. She pressed herself up against Owen, her arms snaking around his neck. Owen pulled back and looked down at her, a look of surprise clear on his face. Claire just smiled at him and pulled him back down.

There was no going back now. The movie and the coffee could all go hang; all Owen wanted was this woman. Owen pulled back and scooped Claire up, kissing her as he skirted around the edge of her coffee table. He broke away momentarily and looked at Claire.

"Bedroom?" It wasn't poetry; hell, it was hardly a sentence. Really, it was a plea. A plea for her to accept what was happening between them and go with it. Claire didn't resist and indicated to a hallway beside the entertainment center. Owen peppered her with kisses as he carried her into her bedroom and plopped her on her bed, kicking the door shut behind him out of pure instinct. She hardly had time to prop herself up on her elbows before he was on top of her again, pinning her, kissing her fiercely. He wanted her so. _Goddamn._ _Badly._

But he was going to savor each and every moment along the way. He had to restrain himself, to slow his pace. He rolled off of Claire and laid beside her, tugging her hip so that she followed and rolled toward him. She was breathless and flushed, and he could feel his smug grin widening into a genuine smile. He reached out and trailed a fingertip down one freckled ivory arm. She was smiling softly, prettily, and the sheer heat in her crystal blue eyes burned all the way down to his very soul.

"You're beautiful, Claire," he whispered, gently caressing her arm. Her smile widened and she twitched.

"That tickles…" Claire let out a breathy gasp as his fingertips skirted across her exposed collarbone. His own breath hitched, and Owen concealed a small shudder.

"In a good way, yes?" He continued to stroke her, his fingertips drawing lazy patterns on her chest and shoulders. During one particularly daring swoop, he hooked one finger under the top of her dress and dragged it along the seam. Claire moaned softly and her flush deepened, whether from embarrassment at the sound she'd made or just from his contact, he wasn't sure.

"In a very good way," Claire hummed, gently pressing her forehead to his. He kissed her, calm and unhurried, and trailed his hand over her dress, following the valley between her breasts down to her navel. Claire groaned against his lips, just as Owen had planned, and he pulled her to him and deepened the kiss. Claire was pulled taught as a bowstring, straining for contact, completely lost under Owen's onslaught. He felt a surge of pride, accompanied by the distinct rush of blood to his nether regions. She was _the_ definition of calm, collected grace, and she was _putty in his hands._ _He,_ Owen Grady, the rough-and-tumble velociraptor trainer, made Miss Starched Suit melt with a few simple caresses.

And in return, she was burning him alive. It was through sheer determination alone that Owen had not ripped her pretty sundress open at the seams. As he kissed her, one deft hand caressed her shoulders, following her shoulder blades down to the top of her dress. He gently tugged at the zipper, waiting for any kind of resistance from her, practically begging for permission. When she showed no signs of hesitation, he broke their hazy kiss long enough to drag the zipper down her back and plunge one large hand inside her dress.

 _Sweet, merciful velociraptor Jesus._ She wasn't wearing a bra. She hadn't been wearing a bra this entire time. The thought kicked the wind right out of Owen's lungs as he realized _exactly_ how close he'd come to glimpsing her breasts when he stole glances at her chest during dinner. It was entirely unexpected and insanely erotic, and Owen groaned, pressing his forehead into the junction of her neck and shoulder as he traced a line along where her bra band was _supposed_ to be with a flat palm. Claire shivered, cradling his head as best as she could, given their current position.

"So," Owen bit out, trying to maintain some measure of decorum in his voice, "little Miss Prim goes braless. Good to know." Claire laughed and gently kissed the top of his head in a sign of affection that nearly killed him. _She's enjoying this. She actually likes me. She wants this._

"When the occasion requires, yes, I go braless." Owen groaned again, and his large hand stilled on her back. "Now that I know what affect it has on you, I'll go braless more often." The very idea kicked his heartbeat into high gear, and Owen kissed her just to silence her. The very thought of Claire, braless, perhaps walking around in a tight, stretchy tee and jeans…her breasts straining against the fabric, begging him to touch…He groaned at his own thoughts. The very idea that there could be a repeat performance, that he had other opportunities with Claire, had him reeling.

Claire was grinning, hell, she was downright _smug._ He couldn't let her win this battle of wills. She would cave before he did, dammit. He pushed her back onto her back and sat himself up, gathering up her dress by the skirt and tugging it forcefully down her legs, tossing it to the floor in a heap. When he turned back to Claire, his brain temporarily left his body, and he couldn't breathe.

She was almost completely bared to him, with only her blue lace-trimmed panties obstructing his view of her. She had made no move to cover her breasts after he undressed her; her hands rested on either side of her head, outside her halo of wild red hair. He watched her beautiful breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and traced a finger along the lace waistline of her panties. Claire let out a little yelp of surprise and blushed. Up until that point, the caresses had been more innocent and innocuous. It was almost as if what she had gotten herself into had dawned on her at that instant, and she showed no signs of hesitation.

"I was almost expecting granny panties," he quipped, and Claire scoffed and grinned deviously up at him. She stretched languidly, arching her back and perking up her breasts for him. She crossed her arms above her head, sighing comfortably.

"Those are for every other day. I break these out for… _special occasions._ " Her words hit him like a ten-ton sack of bricks. Was she serious? Did that mean she'd been planning to sleep with him all along? _Did she really wear granny panties?!_

 _Focus, man, FOCUS._ Owen struggled to maintain control as blood thrummed in his ears and…lower body. He was painfully aware of the zipper teeth biting in to one particular lower extremity as it strained against his jeans. Claire squirmed a little under his gaze, and he watched a slight chill go up her body.

"Well, Mr. Grady, do I still have my 'perfect figure?'" Owen's eyes traced Claire from head to toe. She was beyond perfect. She was absolutely ungodly beautiful, and he had no words to tell her. Instead, he surged forward, straddling her and holding her arms pinned in their position above her head. Denim scraped along her delicate skin and she let out a low moan. Owen kissed Claire once before kissing along one of her splendidly high cheekbones, following it all the way back to tease the shell of her ear with his tongue. He bit one earlobe before his mouth continued its trek south, following her jaw down to the elegant column of her neck. He kissed and licked and bit his way down to the junction of her neck and shoulder and she shuddered when he bit down and laved at the area with his tongue. "God, Owen!" He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips. He suckled _hard_ , ensuring that he would leave behind a bright, beautiful bruise, a reminder to the world that he had claimed her, that she was _his_ now. He looked up at her, his breathing as ragged as hers.

"You're gorgeous," he managed, trailing a hand up her hip and along her ribcage, skirting his fingers around the swell of one glorious breast. She groaned and arched her back, a silent plea for more contact.

"You're overdressed." Owen had freed Claire's arms at some point during the onslaught of her neck, the need for balance overriding the desire to be alpha. She reached down and clumsily tugged on the buttons of his shirt, and Owen bit back a moan. All she had to do was _touch him_ and he fell apart. Owen sat up out of her reach and yanked the offending shirt over his head, dragging his undershirt along with it and tossing both to the floor. He collapsed back down, catching himself just before he flattened her under his weight, his mouth coming to rest directly above one plump, round breast. He gently kissed the rise of her breast and trailed his fingertips lazily along the other, tracing a path along the swell, knuckles brushing the underside.

Claire's skin felt like it was on fire, and every touch made it burn hotter and hotter. She practically yelped when his rough knuckles grazed her breast, and she let out a desperate cry of relief and need when the same rough hand enveloped her breast, palm warm against her nipple. Her cry was met with a groan from Owen, and he kissed along the top of her other breast. She had no idea how greatly just _touching_ her had affected him. Indeed, merely caressing a woman had never felt as good to Owen as caressing Claire felt. She cried out with wanton abandon when he closed his mouth over one taught nipple, gently rolling the other between his fingers. Her entire body spasmed and she _screamed_ his name. She was so wonderfully receptive, and so _reactive._ He felt almost like… _Oh God. No, nononono NO!_ Owen's line of thought caused him to quickly pull away from her breast and look her in the eye. Hazy, beautiful, _yes_ , but he had a question to be answered first.

"Claire…have you…" He paused, reddening, not sure how to ask her. "Have you… _done this_ before?" Her responses to him had been almost virginal. Claire enthusiastically nodded her head yes, and Owen visibly eased. Even as slow as he'd been making himself go, he was still going _entirely too fast_ for a first time.

"A couple times," she admitted, "but not in a very long time." Owen had resumed his attack on her breasts, and her words became harder and harder to find, and her sentences were interrupted -by breathy moans. "I was…a teenager… _God, Owen…_ it was…nothing compared…to this."

 _Good merciful God._ Owen bit Claire's breast and made her yelp. He wasn't her first, which meant he didn't have to be gentle, but so far she'd just told him he was the best she'd had, and he wasn't even at the actual sex part yet! Owen's ego swelled along with another key component of his anatomy, and he was glad for the presence of his jeans. Right now, he was pretty sure that once they came off, his restraint would disappear, and he wasn't ready to give himself over to instinct just yet. He shifted his attention to Claire's other breast, his hand tracing a path along her ribs, down to the curve of her hip. He nipped along the curve of her breast and kissed down her sternum, placing random kisses and biting along the flat plane of her stomach. Claire shivered and moaned, and he kissed her hip. His fingertips traced the lace of her panties, almost hesitantly. Claire gasped, and Owen placed a gentle kiss against the soft fabric. Her gasp became a low moan. Emboldened, Owen pressed more kisses against the fabric, and Claire parted her legs slightly, giving him just enough room to slide between and nudge her legs up and on to his shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating from her, warming him down to his very core and giving him chills all over. His restrained nether regions pulsed almost painfully against his zipper as he placed another open-mouthed kiss against her very center.

Claire practically screamed. She couldn't remember the last time a man had touched her _there,_ let alone kissed or licked the way Owen did. The fabric only caused the sensation to spread across a wider area, and Owen had to press Claire's hips down to keep them from bucking. Her hands first clenched her bedsheets, then tangled in his hair. She shuddered and moaned when his fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties and slowly dragged them down her legs. Claire's hands gripped his shoulders and her nails dug in painfully as he lowered his head and continued his torment.

Owen was surprised to see that not only did Miss Prim keep the bush well-trimmed, so to speak, but that it was also naturally a deep auburn. The drapes weren't that far off, then, he mused. She tasted clean. He turned his head to kiss along her inner thigh, leaving her whimpering.

"Owen…please…" She whimpered, her fingers tightening around his shoulders, nails digging in to his back.

"Yes, Claire?" His breathing was ragged and his mind was half gone. All that remained of his composure was the determination to make this woman scream and moan his name as many times as he could that night. He kissed one raised knee and felt her hips twitching in his hands, trying to regain contact.

"Please…don't stop." It was all Owen needed to hear. He began his assault anew with a skill few possessed. He didn't stop the first time she screamed his name and shuddered violently, nor the second, nor the third. Only when Claire's hands groped at the sides of his face and pulled him up did he pause long enough to give her a quizzical look.

"Owen…" She bit her lip, suddenly shy. He knew exactly what she wanted, and his groin throbbed almost painfully at the neglect it had received thus far. He knew exactly what she wanted, but he _had_ to hear her say it. "…Please. _I need you._ " Owen pulled himself back up the length of Claire's body with almost inhuman speed. His lips slammed into hers as her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle. He pulled away and knelt long enough to tear it off and rip off his jeans. He was almost certain he saw the button fly across the room in his haste. His boxers came off with the jeans and both joined their mixed heap of clothes on the floor. He stayed knelt over her, naked as the day he was born and _very_ prominent. Claire openly admired him, and he couldn't help but smirk as pride surged through him. Owen knew he was well above average, and he was rather proud of his assets. Claire somehow managed to pull herself up and reach out to grasp the length of him in one delicate hand.

 _Holy fucking mother of fucking fuck._ This woman was unreal. She treated his cock like one of her delicate fossilized bones, trailing her fingertips from base to tip. She reacted to him like she had never seen a cock before, and he had to remind herself that the last time she'd done this, she'd been much younger. By his best estimate, he probably had quintuple the experience she had with what they were about to do. He groaned and almost fell off the bed when her lips closed around his head. He pushed her away, perhaps a little more roughly than he'd intended, and she looked confused and…hurt? Owen crawled across the bed and gathered her up in his arms.

"This is your last chance to back out, Claire. I don't know how much longer I can hold back. Touch me or… _do that_ again and I'm gonna lose it." He could hardly believe he had the restraint left to say what he was saying, let alone find the words to say it. He gently took hold of her chin in his hands and tilted her face up. Piercing blue met crystalline blue as his eyes bore into hers, down to her very soul. He kissed her, much gentler than he just had, and pulled away. The desire in her eyes and the downright pouty look she gave him when he ended the kiss threatened to end him right then. "Last chance to say no, Claire. Are you sure you want this?" _Are you sure you want me?_ That had been the question he'd wanted to ask, if she would take him with his faults and his board shorts and his unrefined manner. Claire stretched up and kissed him, her arms wrapping around his neck. She pulled away, glossy-eyed and breathless.

"I've never been more sure of anything."

Restraint? What was restraint? Owen's last thread of self-control snapped, and he pinned Claire back against the bed, kissing her fiercely. He pressed his pelvis against hers and Claire whimpered in response. Owen had just enough rational thought left in his head to reach between them and slowly slide two fingers into her.

 _Jumping Jesus CHRIST, hotwettight._ He crooked his fingers towards the spot that he knew would make her scream, pressing against it as Claire rocked against his hand by pure instinct.

"Good _God,_ Owen!" Claire screamed as she climaxed, her hips bucking against his hand in a frantic attempt to gain more stimulation. Owen withdrew his fingers and she looked like she might hit him. He aligned himself and pressed against her, and slowly, torturously slowly, he pushed forward. Owen moaned as his hips surged forward of his own accord, burying him in her up to the hilt. Claire moaned and squirmed against him, partly in pain, partly in pleasure. She was ridiculously tight and _so hot._ Owen pressed his forehead against Claire's as he pulled out, bit by bit, and surged back in. Claire's legs wrapped around his waist, pain forgotten, and Owen really and truly lost all control, bucking into her with wild abandon. Claire met him thrust for thrust in a frenzied pace, her inner muscles tightening and spasming around him. She screamed and her inner muscles clamped down around him, and her final climax sent Owen over the edge. He shouted her name as he spent himself and collapsed on top of her, boneless. Before he could flatten her under his weight, he rolled off of her to his back, dragging her with him, pulling her up against his side and tucking her into the crook of his arm. He held her tightly, panting and trying to regain his composure. She sighed and smiled against his skin.

"Was good for you?" He managed, tongue still thick and head still spinning. She nodded, too brainless to even speak, and hugged him tightly. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and reached down to tug her blankets up and over them both. "Good." He felt her breathing deepen, and for the first time in his life, a woman fell asleep before Owen did after sex. He felt her breathing even out and he pulled her closer to him. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of her soft skin against his, her warm breath on his chest. For the first time, the woman he'd gone to bed with wasn't the only one completely sated and satisfied. For the first time, Owen Grady had been given a second chance at a first impression. And he'd succeeded.

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 _A/N: Hope that was as fun to read as it was to write! Reviews are like cookies; I like to shove as many of them in my face as I can while still being able to breathe._


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